


Homecoming

by dramatic owl (snarky_panda)



Category: Quantum Leap
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fix-It, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-10
Updated: 2019-04-10
Packaged: 2020-01-07 15:27:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,168
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18413450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snarky_panda/pseuds/dramatic%20owl
Summary: Sam wondered if he really could just stop, get off the crazy ride and be home with Donna and Al and everyone else he loved.





	Homecoming

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the fluffbingo challenge on dreamwidth for the prompt: stolen. References to the 'Mirror Image' episode.

Sam Beckett’s latest leap had landed him someplace remote, outside under a black sky covered with stars. A ranch house stood several yards in the distance and at the sight of it his stomach fluttered and his chest constricted. It was the only structure in sight and whoever he was here to help was likely in there; but he didn’t know under what pretense he was supposed to make contact with them. The house was dark except for a dim light in one window.

Ever since he’d leaped out of Al’s Place, that bar in Cokeburg, Pennsylvania, his leaps had steadily grown tougher, just as the bartender named Al had warned. His leap to Beth right after that was the only leap where he was crystal clear on why he was there and what he needed to do. After that he was alone, without a project behind him to provide data and backup, without an observer and friend to give him the information and moral support he needed. A leap like this, into the middle of nowhere at night, outside a single closed-up house with no other clues at all, was frustratingly difficult to figure out. He couldn’t just walk into someone’s house. He was a perfect stranger.

The New Mexico desert night was chilly and silent. Sam started at the realization that he knew he was in New Mexico and a powerful sense of déjà vu seized him. Leaping had always left holes in his memory, but he was sure that not only was he in New Mexico, he’d been in this specific place before. He recognized the shapes of the mountains and rock formations in the distance. Even the house seemed familiar, and he wondered if it was because Al lived here with Beth now, assuming he was even still at Project Quantum Leap in this timeline. He took several steps towards it, stopped when a light in another room flickered to life, studied it. Caught a glimpse of a door sliding open and a figure stepping out a moment later. His heart sped up and with surer steps Sam moved forward again.

It wasn’t Al, he realized upon drawing nearer. Though the figure was still only a dark shape he could see it was a woman. He halted in his tracks again and watched her pace, thinking maybe it was Beth. Now and then she stopped, leaned against the low wall that enclosed the patio and looked up at the sky. Then she resumed pacing, her arms wrapped around herself.

She had long flowing hair, well past her shoulders, and he remembered that Beth’s hair wasn’t that long. This wasn’t Beth. It was—

“Donna,” he gasped, barely able to get the sound out, the shock of remembering nearly knocking him off his feet.

Sam sank down onto his knees, gripped his head in his hands, struggled to catch his breath.

Through all the years he’d been leaping through time and space with a memory full of holes, he remembered always that he was Sam Beckett and he was born and grew up on a dairy farm in Elk Ridge, Indiana; that he had an older brother Tom and a younger sister Katie; that Al Calavicci was his best friend, and until he started leaping alone to put right what once went wrong, Al had been his observer and lifeline through it all. He remembered Ziggy and Gooshie and Bena and every other friend who worked on the project. But never Donna.

He couldn’t understand it. She was his wife, the woman he loved, and he couldn’t believe he hadn’t remembered her once in all this time.

The buzzing in his ears began to fade, the blackness that had threatened receded from the edge of his vision. After a few more minutes the tightness in his chest and stomach eased too. His breath came easier and finally evened out and he lifted his head. She was still pacing the length of the patio – _their_ patio behind _their_ house – where they’d spent so many of their evenings stargazing and cherishing each other’s company, and it dawned on him that this time, this leap, _Donna_ was the person who needed his help. That thought brought him to his feet in an instant and he continued toward the house, picking up his pace.

She was turning, as if about to go back inside. He called out her name and broke into a run. When he reached the patio, Donna still stood frozen in the open doorway, turned towards him now, her hand gripping the jamb, her expression filled with so much anguish his heart broke.

“Donna,” he whispered.

She mouthed something but no words came out. Her face crumpled and she started to cry soundlessly, wrapping her arms around her stomach and nearly doubling over as if in physical pain. Sam rushed forward, lifted her up, enfolded her in his arms. With a gasp she finally caught her breath and began to sob audibly. He stroked her hair, softly kissed every inch of her face, and tried to comfort her, unable to keep his own tears from mingling with hers.

~

Donna hadn’t bothered to put on a robe or a coat or even a sweater before she’d stepped out onto the patio and she’d been shivering in the thin nightgown she was wearing. Sam tried to coax her into the house, but she insisted on staying out in the cold night. Her crying had finally subsided but he could sense the agitation beneath her sorrow and relief, agitation that had been there even before he’d arrived.

“Donna, you’ll get sick out here dressed like that. Let’s go inside. Please.”

“I need to stay out here for a little while longer.”

“You need to? Why?”

She turned her face away from him, extracted herself from his embrace, began to pace again. “Because I lost track of whether I took medication or not, or whether I maybe took too much. I don’t think…I shouldn’t lie down yet.”

“What?”

“I haven’t been sleeping and it’s been having an – adverse – effect on me. So Bena prescribed me medicine to help me sleep. I took it tonight but then after I took it I got the terrible feeling I’d already taken a dose but forgot. I counted out what’s left in the bottle, but I’m not sure that the number I got—”

“Show me,” he said, quickly taking her by the arm and leading her inside.

Memories flooded him as they moved through the house and he glimpsed the tangible evidence of the life they’d shared before he leaped. Their wedding photo on the mantel over the fireplace in the living room. The furniture and décor they’d chosen together. The artwork and knick-knacks they’d bought, souvenirs of the places they’d traveled together.

They’d gotten married in 1985, June 8th, a Saturday, in the mission church at Taos. Al was his best man, his younger sister Katie was Donna’s ‘best woman’ as they’d chosen to call it, rejecting the terms ‘maid’ or ‘matron’ of honor. They’d spent their wedding night at the historic Hotel La Fonda de Taos then honeymooned in the French Riviera. Then they’d come home and built a life together, filled with days of creating a groundbreaking project they loved and believed in, with nights of stargazing and soft, intimate conversation and making love.

They reached the bedroom, and the sight of the numerous pills that were still laid out on the bedside table next to the empty bottle cut off his reminiscences.

“I was going to count them again. Then I thought maybe I should just get outside for some air and move around.”

Sam picked up the bottle and checked the date it had been filled.

“October 31, 2001. What’s today’s date?”

“November 7th.”

He counted the pills, dropping them back into the bottle as he ticked off the numbers. At least the tablets were the lowest dosage available, but the remaining number of pills was too low given the short time she’d had the prescription. She’d either taken even more than she thought tonight, or she’d been doubling the dose on other days.

“How long ago did you take it?”

“About forty-five minutes ago.”

Right now she didn’t seem to be affected, but it was still early and he wasn’t taking any chances. He pulled one of the blankets off of the bed and draped it around both of their shoulders, then he curled his arm around her waist and nudged her toward the door.

“Where are we going?”

“Back out in the cold, unfortunately.”

Once outside, Sam kept supportive arms around her and they slowly strolled back and forth on the patio, wrapped together in the blanket. He quizzed her on the stars, asked her to do astronomical calculations, anything he could think of to make sure she stayed alert.

Donna had always been very organized, and while he knew people could get disoriented and confused on sleeping pills and forget they took a dose already, he thought she knew better. Then he remembered what she’d told him. That lack of sleep was having an adverse effect on her and that’s why Verbena Beeks had prescribed the medication in the first place. She’d likely already been disoriented and confused without the aid of the pills.

“You’ve been doubling the dose before today.”

“One wasn’t working enough.”

“Did you ask Bena if that was okay?”

She didn't answer.

“You have to be careful with these pills, Donna, and you shouldn’t keep taking them. They’re addictive—”

“There’s been no one in the waiting room for over a year, Sam,” she blurted out.

He stopped moving, stunned. She started to cry again and he leaned against the patio wall, drew her tightly against him. She buried her face in his chest and he began to rub her back soothingly.

“You went completely off the grid. Eventually, months after, we discovered you were still alive and leaping, because events and lives were still changing and Ziggy was recording the changes.”

“Ziggy is still recording the changes?”

“Yes. She never stopped searching for you or sifting through all the information and timelines. Unfortunately, we could only track where you had _been_ after the fact based on that, not where you were or where you’d be next. We always lagged so far behind you. At least when you were changing places with a leapee there was a body in the waiting room. But then you completely disappeared.”

Sam had no idea what to say. Once he’d started leaping as himself and on his own, he hadn’t had time to think about what it must be like for the people he’d left behind at the project. It was almost too much for him to bear, to stand with Donna now and feel how much she was hurting, to realize how distraught she had to have been to get so confused about her medication.

Whether intentional or not he’d hurt her deeply. He’d abandoned her. More than once. Guilt surged through him at the vivid memory of switching places with Al so many leaps ago, returning to her then leaving her again.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, tightening his embrace and softly kissing the top of her head. “I promised I would come back to you. When I leaped home that time, when I switched places with Al. I promised I would come back to you. I’m sorry it took me so long. That it took this...”

“But you’re not really home, are you,” she said sorrowfully. “This is just another leap, because I probably did screw up about the pills.”

“No,” he whispered, shaking his head. Tears welled up in his eyes again and he blinked them away. He leaned back, gently placed his finger under her chin and tilted her face up so he could look her in the eye. “Oh, Donna, do you really think you could ever be just another leap to me?”

“But you’re not home. Not really.”

He wished he could give her an answer, but the truth was he didn’t know himself whether this was a leap or whether he’d actually finally willed himself home. Even after Al’s Place, even after leaping directly to Beth as he’d intended, Sam still couldn’t believe that he was in control. He’d been on this crazy ride for so long and, except for the leap to Beth and a handful of other targeted leaps, he never felt as if he had control over anything. Could he really just stop now because he wanted to? Get off this whirlwind and be with Donna and Al and everyone else he loved?

It seemed an impossible dream. And if he was home, what about all those people he could help but wouldn’t because he wasn’t leaping anymore? Could he forgive himself for that? Could Donna forgive him for it? He knew she believed in the good they were doing with Project Quantum Leap, believed in it as much as he and Al did. That’s why she’d forbidden Al to remind him of her. He remembered that too.

Sam gazed at her tenderly, brushed her hair back from her face, stroked her cheek. She was lovely. Even sniffling and with red, puffy eyes she still took his breath away.

“Donna, I want to tell you about the leap to Al’s Place.”

Confusion clouded her face and it dawned on him she might’ve not even been aware of that leap.

“It was my very first leap as myself. No leapee, nobody in the waiting room.”

All this time he’d foolishly convinced himself that he was alone, that he had to continue on alone, and that he had to solve all his problems alone. But Donna was his wife, and he’d unilaterally and unfairly made decisions that had affected her life too. Being married, they were _supposed_ to share in one another’s hardships and work through them together. No matter what the outcome, she deserved to know the details of his situation and to have at least some input before he made any decision about it.

Sam adjusted the blanket, tugged it tighter around both their bodies, made sure she was comfortable. Then he told her all about the leap into Al’s Place, about Al the bartender and his conversations with him, and how that single leap had changed the rules of his leaping from then on.

~

“Maybe it’s not an either/or situation, Sam,” Donna suggested, lifting the full pot out of the coffee maker and pouring out two cups for them.

Enough time had passed without her showing any effect of an overdose, so Sam had deemed it safe for her to move inside and get comfortable. She hadn’t wanted to settle down though, and instead led him straight to the kitchen for coffee. He could’ve argued that she didn’t need a stimulant now, at two-thirty in the morning, that something comforting like hot chocolate was maybe a better choice; but he understood why she needed to stay up, so he didn’t. Instead he helped her with the preparation, taking mugs down from the cabinet, spoons out of the drawer, getting milk from the refrigerator.

Sam poured milk into her cup first, just the way he knew she liked it – five drops to cool it off a bit but not too much to water down the taste of the coffee.

“You’re suggesting that both things are true. That sometimes I really do control my leaps but there are other times I simply can’t.”

They walked arm in arm to the living room carrying their mugs and settled down, snuggling together under the blanket he’d dropped on the couch on the way to the kitchen.

“Well, we all have free will,” she continued once they’d made themselves comfortable, “we all make choices in life that determine its direction – our destiny. At the same time, there are so many things we can’t control, and we have to work around those things as best we can. Why wouldn’t it be the same with leaping?”

He sipped his coffee, at a loss for words. What she said made sense, but it didn’t provide an easy answer to whether he could stop leaping and if he did whether he could live with the ramifications.

“But what I originally meant was that maybe leaping versus coming home doesn’t have to be an either/or situation. If you do have the ability to leap any time, any place you want to, like that bartender said, couldn’t you come home between leaps? If you timed it right nobody here would even realize you’d been gone.”

“I don’t know. That seems too good to be true. And probably much more complicated than it sounds.”

Donna lowered her chin and stared into her mug. “I guess the question really is: what do you want, Sam?” He could hear the apprehension in her voice. “Do you want to come home?”

It was on the tip of his tongue to say _I am home_ , but he couldn’t. He wasn’t confident enough of it, and if he was wrong he would only disappoint and hurt her yet again.

But he was still here. Donna was passed the crisis that had likely called him here, so he’d accomplished the leap's purpose; but he hadn’t leaped out yet and there wasn’t even any sign that he was ready to leap again. No tingling in his body that told him it was time to go. No tugging sensation in his stomach like he always felt just before his body was yanked away from one time and place and hurled to another. There was only contentment to be here, curled up with Donna in his arms on their living room couch. It was like a dream.

“Sam?”

She was staring at him, waiting for him to answer.

“Donna, I…I want to be home. It’s just – I think about the changes for the better that won’t happen if I’m not leaping, of the people who I could help but won’t…”

She looked deeply into his eyes and he could see the perfect understanding in hers. “Of course. Of course that would be it.”

“I’ve already hurt you so much. I—”

“Shhh.” She gently placed two fingers over his lips. “Sam, I’m not going to lie and say that your leaping wasn’t hard on me. There were things you needed to do when you leaped into other people—”

Sam remembered those leaps, felt compelled to apologize, but she hushed him again before he could say a word.

“No. You don’t need to apologize or explain. It wasn’t easy for me, but I understood why you had to do those things, that it was for the greater good. And I was proud of what you were doing, what we were doing. We don’t ever need to discuss it any further.”

“Oh, Donna,” he sighed, pulling her closer, pressing his forehead against hers. “I don’t deserve you.”

“I’ll be the judge of that,” she said lightly and softly kissed his lips. Then she drew back to look at him, sobering again. “But after your body disappeared last year and we thought you might be dead, but wondered if maybe you were alive and we would just never find you? That has been a living hell, Sam. It’s been eating me up inside. And I couldn’t bear it if it happened again. If you do decide to keep leaping, we deserve to know where you are, and not just from Ziggy’s tracking you after the fact. Especially if you can go where you want now.”

“You’re right.”

“Besides, even if you don’t _need_ the project to leap now, the project is what started it all. What happens to it? To us? Doesn’t it matter anymore?”

“Of course it does. Maybe…” he trailed off.

“Maybe?” she repeated, giving his arm an encouraging squeeze.

“Maybe I can just take time out from it for a while, really think things over. And rest.”

“That sounds wise. You deserve a break. And the past will always be there if you want to leap again.”

Despite the calmness and confidence in her tone he could see the same apprehension and sadness in her eyes. Sam gently grasped her shoulder, squeezed it reassuringly, looked her in the eye when he spoke.

“Donna, I promise I won’t make any decision without you, without talking to you, ever again.”

Before she could respond the cellphone on the coffee table began to ring and she shifted to pick it up.

“This has to be Al. Ziggy must’ve finally tracked you here.”

~

“I’ll wait here,” Donna said when the knock sounded on the front door. “Go and see your friend.”

“I won’t be long.”

“Take as long as you need. He missed you too.”

Sam rushed to the door, his heart racing at the thought of seeing Al in the flesh again. Al lurched right in as soon as he pulled the door open.

“Sam!”

They moved in at the same time and grabbed each other up in a tight hug.

“Al,” Sam whispered, tears forming in his eyes once more.

“Ninety-nine-point-nine percent, Sam!” Al was saying, his voice gruff as he fought to control his own emotions. “Ninety-nine-point-nine percent!”

“Huh?”

“Those are the odds Ziggy just gave that you’re home to stay.”

Sam couldn’t believe it. He released Al and stared at him. “Is she sure about that?”

“Well, you know how insecure Ziggy is about being wrong, Sam, so she’ll never say she’s sure of anything, and she’ll never give the odds as one hundred percent. She wants that point-one percent leeway, just in case. But yes, she’s sure.”

Deep inside he’d already known it to be true, that he was home and he could stay as long as he wanted to; but having Al there, giving him the odds the way he always did, provided that last sliver of confidence he’d needed.

“God, it’s good to see you, Al.”

“It’s good to see you too, Sam, but just where the hell have you been?” he demanded.

Sam dipped his head. “It’s a long story.”

“Yeah I bet.”

“I’ve told Donna about it and I want to tell you too. But right now—”

Right now he needed to give Donna all of his attention and assure her of his presence.

Al grinned and held up his hands. “I know. You just finally reunited with Donna. I would’ve waited but I had to see you as soon as I heard from Ziggy.”

“I’m glad you came.”

“Sam,” Al began, his expression serious now. “I never did get to thank you—”

He shook his head. “You don’t need to thank me.”

Sam wrapped his arms around Al and hugged him again.

“I’ll see you later today, Al. We should be up by noon. Come on over then and bring Beth too.”

“I will. She’ll be glad to see you. And welcome home, Sam.”

They embraced one more time before Al departed. Sam closed the door and returned to Donna in the living room.

“Ninety-nine-point-nine percent,” she said. She smiled, the first genuinely happy smile he’d seen on her face. “I heard him. But you knew, even before, didn’t you?”

He sat beside her and wrapped his arms around her.

“I didn’t want to disappoint you again,” he said sheepishly. “In case I was wrong.”

Donna laughed lightly. “You didn't want to calculate the odds at one hundred percent either.”

“No, I guess I didn’t.” Sam smiled and kissed her. “I invited Al and Beth to come over later.”

“I hope you told them to come late.”

“Noon.”

She groaned. “That might not be late enough. But it’ll be nice for all of us to be together again.”

“It will.” He stood up, held out his hands to her. “Come on. It sounds like maybe now you're finally ready to sleep.”

“I’m ready to give it a try.”

She took his hands and allowed him to help her up off the couch and lead her to their bedroom. She slipped off her shoes and crawled under the quilt and, after stripping off his clothes, Sam climbed into bed after her and shut the light. He curled his body around hers and held her tight.

“You know, there are some young scientists on the project who want to leap too. We can still continue doing the work we’ve been doing, Sam.”

“Have them take turns?”

“Maybe, if we can get the retrieval program working reliably. It doesn’t always have to be on you to fix everything.”

“I like the idea. It’s worth looking into. We can talk about it more after we’ve both had some sleep.”

He felt her snuggle deeper against him, felt the tension in her body release.

“Goodnight, Donna,” he murmured, softly kissing her shoulder. “See you in the morning.”

Sam rested his cheek against her hair and listened until her breathing finally became deep and even.


End file.
